


Beyond the Line of Duty

by lowstandards



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Bottom Merlin, Canon Era, Druid Merlin, Druids, Frottage, M/M, Magic, One Shot, Porn, Porn With Plot, Smut, emrys - Freeform, some sex magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 15:57:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14405511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowstandards/pseuds/lowstandards
Summary: Arthur must meet and negotiate with the Druid leader Emrys to finalize the legalization of magic in Camelot and ends up with more than he bargained for.





	Beyond the Line of Duty

“This is absurd,” Arthur groaned as he slipped his chain mail off. He watched it be set down with longing. He was to ride into the forest without any sort of protection for a meeting with some sorcerer who could quite easily kill him. It’s not like any of it was his idea though, and he didn’t even remotely approve of it! No, apparently there was a seasonal celebration among the Druids and after the torture Uther had placed upon them, the council, and Gaius especially, said this was a fair opportunity to make amends. It was his duty, as Camelot’s king, they claimed, it was the best way to bond with magic again, they said.    
  
Except it currently meant the grand uneasy feeling he was dressing for his death. George had dressed him in his usual formal attire used in royal company. It did provide the same honorific appearance he liked, but the protection of armor would have been much more appreciated than aesthetics. When he was fully dressed, a more informal crown placed atop his head last, he marched down to the palace steps.    
  
“I can’t even bring Leon?” Arthur asked, casting a glance at the captain of the guard.    
  
“No sire. The Druids will appreciate the humility of you arriving alone.” Gaius replied.   
  
Right, humility, he thought as his ever-diligent manservant clipped his rich crimson cape around his throat. As he mounted his horse he saw Leon share a look and shrug with him that relayed their mutual discontent.    
  
Without another word he pulled at the reigns and rode out of the square. It felt so odd to be leaving Camelot behind, especially alone; however, he feared more for himself than for the citadel. Since his succession, Arthur had prioritized undoing the damage of Uther’s rule, primarily in foreign relations and magic. It was an arduous process of attempting to reassure the people that magic had no standing in evil, that the Great Purge had been the actions of a grief-stricken man. Discrediting such a large part of Camelot’s history was risky, but he refused to carry out laws he did not believe, and more importantly laws that held such a moral compromise. Since then, Camelot had remained peaceful, with few internal or external enemies. Taxes were lowered, the crops were thriving. It all seemed too good to be true, but it had been two years of “too good to be true” and Arthur feared he had become easy. It was unlikely enemies would rise up where they had for so long been absent, but his suspicions gnawed at him while in the dusky forest he was alone with his thoughts.    
  
The instructions he had received from the Druid leader, Emrys, had been vague, to say the least. It seemed he was to just ride into the Forest of Ascetir and would be guided there, but by what forces Arthur did not know. However he kept riding, the sun had set and the trees seemed to loom higher. But he wasn’t scared, my god he was a king and he had more dignity than that. But the forest was very dark.    
  
He slowed his pace when there was a soft rustling in the bushes, and little wind to justify it. His hand flew to his sword, wrapping around the pommel at his hip. Despite advice to come unarmed, he refused; he already lacked armor but the presence of a sword was not for protection against magic, it was against the forest itself.    
  
“Arthur Pendragon,” a calm voice that seemed young preceded a figure-no, two figures. One wore a deep green cloak, the other person was much smaller and robed in blue, seeming adolescent. “We welcome you,” the voice said again as the two pulled back their hoods. The smaller was a boy with pale skin and bright eyes, the Druid boy of years ago, much older now. Beside him with a clever and devilishly familiar grin stood Morgana. She had disappeared from Camelot so long before, when Uther believed her kidnapped. It was the boy, Mordred, who had spoken before and now it was Morgana who beckoned with one hand to the king. At seeing their faces, Arthur’s curiosity was heightened, but his anxiety had near vanished.    
  
The two led him to a village that was the most ethereal thing the king had ever seen. Maybe it was because of their celebration that it looked so unreal, or maybe this is how the Druids always lived, but the camp was filled with rich candlelight and soft music. The camp pulsed overwhelmingly with magic. Arthur hardly realized what he was doing, but was snapped back to reality as he heard Morgana’s clear laugh. “I’ve never seen you so awestruck before. You look like a child again,” she smiled, and something about the comment made him feel like a child again. He returned the smile, but composed himself a little, trying harder to convey his status despite how ridiculous the weight of his cape and crown felt.    
  
Arthur cleared his throat, “I hate to seem hasty, but may I see Emrys?” He was hasty, his nerves were setting back in and he was unsure of his place here.    
  
Morgana gave him a polite look, she was disappointed with his restraint, “of course, though I hope you can be patient, for once.” The playfulness of her tone sent him reeling back to their teenage years and the teasing and jeers they had filled the halls of Camelot with. “Emrys is attending to festivities at the moment, we hoped to make you feel welcome here, so you may enjoy the feast before he has time.” Arthur nodded, and swallowed his discomfort. There was something so unusual about waiting to meet the Druid leader, given Arthur was, in a sense, the guest of honor.    
  
“I’d be honored to join you,” he smiled and took Morgana’s outstretched arm. Mordred took place on his other side with a content grin.    
  
The best description of the camp is that it was alive. With the music and light, the people dancing, singing and laughing, the smell of indulgent food and above all the clear displays of magic, Arthur felt as though he had been transported somewhere where the trees breathed and the grass beneath his feet was reaching out to welcome him. Mordred pulled him over to watch children play games, running around in giggling circles, and then he was lead to see a man perform miracles with fires, watch it lick his limbs without burning him. Morgana begged him to dance with her and Arthur felt a weight on his shoulders he had grown accustomed to be lifted off into the night air. Together they danced and laughed and he felt like the magic was settling in his bones and imprinting itself against his skin and across his smile.    
  
From frivolity they moved to a feast, an extensive table that appeared to have been made from a fallen oak was surrounded with pillows and laden with food and candles. The Druids has no issue striking up conversation and Arthur found the topic changing every second. A dark-haired man sitting across the table tossed over a roll of bread and loudly asked if Camelot’s king’s always wore their crowns crooked. The teasing was followed by rippling laughter and more absurd question, most of which openly mocked his status. Some asked whether the people of Camelot had even discovered fire yet, if they didn’t have magic, some asked if normal civilians were allowed to breathe in his presence. Arthur could only laugh, and all too genuinely. He had no bitter sentiments for their teasing, it was actually very refreshing.    
  
As people ate less and drank more, excitement rose as the man who had questioned Arthur’s crown began to juggle apples. He held three originally, but would fluidly incorporate any more that were thrown his way. At each addition, a wave of roaring applause would strike up and Arthur may have been the most enthusiastic of them all. It finally seemed the table had run out of apples when another object was thrown, only this was an orange. The man promptly dropped all he had been juggling, holding only the irregular citrus and said with false seriousness, “who threw this? You know I can only do apples!” The display was followed by even more laughter and applause, to which the man bowed, picked up a discarded apple and took a bite.    
  
Arthur was a moment from asking what it seemed they were all waiting for when he heard a soft buzzing that silenced the party. It was a growing fizzle, with no visible source that grew around them, but seemed to stir excitement among all present, especially kids. A sudden dot of light appeared, followed by other orbs that flowed brightly; they were the source of the sound. The light circled the table, growing louder until rising into the treetops and exploding into extravagant fireworks. As soon as the first one went off the silence was broken and thunderous approval replaced it. Arthur was again awe-struck, speechless and watching the dazzling colors and shapes. Some of the orbs had become just sparks of light while others formed dragons and galloping horses. The magic was undeniable and breathtaking.    
  
It was so distracting Arthur didn’t notice Morgana had sat next to him until she spoke, “I’m glad you came.” He looked to her with a raised brow and question on the tip of his tongue, “I know you’re not your father, but it’s been too long since I’ve seen you. I could only hope you changed as much as I knew you could.” She smiled genuinely and wrapped an arm around him, “I’m sorry for leaving you, but please see how welcoming this place is, know how happy I have been here.”   
  
Her words took place deep in Arthur’s heart, “of course,” he breathed. “Morgana, it took awhile for me to realize this, but I figured that after you had run off, you did it for your own good. I spent a long time scared and worried for you, wondering if I would ever know if something had happened, but you can take care of yourself, you always could.” He smiled held up a cup to clink with hers, “I only wish you the best, and I have no words for how happy seeing you again makes me.”   
  
She laughed as they shared a toast and tipped back the warm cider, “oh my, Arthur. The throne really has made you soft, and so formal!” Morgana looked back to another burst in the sky, the image of a fish flying from depicted waves.   
  
Arthur poured himself another drink, though it probably wasn’t advisable. He was too swept up in the fun to truly care though. The man from before settled himself at Arthur’s other side with a huge grin, “I’m glad to see you enjoying yourself, I was scared you would turn out to be a major prat!”   
  
The king let out a loud bark of a laugh, “in all other circumstances you wouldn’t be able to speak to me that way.” Despite the man’s disrespect, Arthur still smiled stupidly and the other returned the sentiment.    
  
His wide grin grew, if that was possible, and his whole body seemed alive with the energy and magic that filled the camp. “Oh! So at court you would maintain a holier-than-thou personality? Why, that’s insufferable!”   
  
“Excuse me-“ Arthur’s amusement was fading just as Morgana cut in,   
  
“Arthur! I didn’t realize you two were already talking.” She had stopped staring at the stars and looked gaily to the two men. “Of course, you know who Arthur is, and Arthur, this is Emrys!” Emrys. This was Emrys?! Arthur’s jaw was on the ground as he looked between the two Druids at his sides. There was no way this disrespectful juggler, was the Druid leader he had come all the way out here for. He refused to believe it. “Oh, and Emrys, these fireworks are your best yet!” she added gleefully.    
  
Great so he was a disrespectful pyromaniac juggler. That made the situation better.    
  
“Aren’t they?!” he laughed, “I’ve been working on that fish design for ages! I was waiting for the right moment to use it.” He nudged Arthur’s shoulder in reference. Clearly he was the “right moment” to show off frivolous firework displays. All the king’s excitement had instantly soured, and he wanted to leave the camp as soon as possible.    
  
“Emrys,” he cleared his throat, “may we speak privately? I believe I came here to discuss some matters of state with you.”   
  
“So serious…” Emrys smiled with a raise of his brows. “Come on then! Let’s talk politics, because that’s always fun!” He eagerly pulled Arthur from the table to a dark blue colored tent.    
  
Once inside Arthur was again overwhelmed with new sights and the rich envelopment of magic. Emrys had already crossed the interior and poured two glasses of cider, motioning for Arthur to join him at a low table with plush cushion seats. “You know, your crown is still crooked-“   
  
Arthur sighed, “Emrys-“   
  
“Please, call me Merlin!” The Druid gave a dazzling smile.    
  
“Merlin.” Arthur corrected, “I was asked here to discuss negotiations with you, to establish Camelot’s peace with all magic folk and undo the damages of my predecessor, of my father.” The king sat up, looking as regal as possible and took a moment to unclip his cape, for it had begun to feel so tight around him.    
  
Em-Merlin shook his head, “I understand, Arthur, that you are quite different from your father. Many sources have told me that: your actions, your people, and even your many admirers. I have no doubts in your sincerity and in your honor. You are the Once and Future King of Albion, the greatest to rule Camelot. Even if all those who praise you had left a question in my mind of that, my own observance and experience with you has proven it.”   
  
Arthur was at a loss with the praise. Only moment before the man had been teasing and rude and now he formally declared his superiority. And observance and experience seemed to overstate their small time together, “Please don’t misunderstand me, but how have you any understanding of my motives after our very brief time shared?”   
  
“Oh!” The humor that usually accompanied all of Merlin’s expressions was gone, and only shock and curiosity remained. “I had hoped you might remember me, from many years ago, before even Morgana had left Camelot.” He looked expectantly at Arthur, who remained still thoroughly confused. “I arrived in Camelot, and you threw me in the stocks!”   
  
“Because of your magic?” Arthur cringed internally.    
  
“No! No, because I called you in arse! And I threw a punch at you! I later saved your life and your father offered me a position as your manservant. At that point through I had discovered my destiny, and declined the position and left Camelot.”   
  
A light went off in Arthur’s head and he sat up in a way that abandoned his formality, “I do remember that! You were just as disrespectful then as you are now!”   
  
“Hey!”   
  
“Yes! Merlin! I do remember, we fought in the market place. It was so strange when you left, and how did you end up here after that?!” Arthur was now filled with questions. He remembered the boy who arrived and had no fear in questioning him, and who had no clue who he was. He remembered being saved by that boy, only for him to disappear the next day as if nothing had ever happened. There had been some talk of it among the servants for maybe a day, but it was an event that was gone as soon as it came. He also remembered something so strange, that he had never been able to place about the boy that questioned him. About Merlin. Maybe it had been the magic, maybe it had been the defiance. Now what stood out was how he changed. He was no longer the gangly boy who had stumbled in a market brawl, with wide eyes and ears and a mess of limbs. Now he seemed a bit wiser, though not exactly sage. Maturity had replaced sprawling adolescence, he was well built and dressed in nicely spun fitted clothes. His eyes held the same joy they did then, but perhaps less naivety, and his ears were still just as big.    
  
Merlin took a sip of his cider and a smile curled at his lips. The Druid seemed much more comfortable without Arthur’s nobility taking a third seat at their table. “While in Camelot, I discovered the dragon beneath the castle. Kilgharrah -the dragon- told me of my destiny. You see, you and I are bound by fate, and no matter what either of us wanted, we would be united in the end. Of course, I said the whole thing sounded ridiculous and I didn’t care whether you died. Oh don’t look at me like that, it was mutual.” Arthur shook his head, but stayed silent as he listened and took a drink. “After saving your life and being granted a position in the castle, I realized I couldn’t stay in Camelot. Because of my magic. To be that close to Uther terrified me, but of course returning home to Ealdor couldn’t be done either. So I left. I wandered around, and eventually found the Druids. Or they found me. Either way, I was here. Part of my destiny is to be Emrys, the greatest sorcerer that ever lived.” Arthur choked on a laugh and a sip and Merlin smiled with him, “I know, unrealistic. But here I still am. I was able to hone my magic here, and eventually gave guidance to Morgana and Mordred as well-“   
  
“Thanks you for that,” Arthur cut in. The two shared a genuine glance and the king even reached out to clasp the other’s arm, “I was so terrified for her. I’m glad to know she had you at a time I was still so blind.”   
  
“When you speak like that it’s clear you are king.”   
  
“Yes, well I have heard I’m a good one so I hope it’s believable,” Arthur smiled and finally pulled his hand back. Merlin laughed loudly, and Arthur really didn’t think what he said had been that funny, but the Druid’s head tilted back and his eyes shut in amusement. Arthur was left with the open sight of his exposed neck, his body shaking and the look of pure joy as Merlin finally looked back at him with tears at the corners of his eyes. It was a look that set Arthur’s stomach alive with butterflies and he found himself again set with a feeling towards the other man that he couldn’t place.    
  
With his backstory covered, Arthur felt more reassured. “So, is the camp always this alive or is it just because I’m here?”   
  
Merlin laughed loudly again, and as contagious as it was, Arthur had to protest because he just wasn’t that funny. “As much as I would love to inflate your ego, it’s all for our celebration, for the changing of seasons, not for you. But, the camp is still usually pretty exciting at night. It’s a hard thing to explain, it’s so full of magic it’s more of a feeling. Stay another night! We’d be glad to entertain for another day.”   
  
Arthur froze “I-“   
  
“Unless of course you’re busy, in which case we can wrap up negotiations now and you can be on your way before sun up.”   
  
“No!” Arthur leaned forward, almost jumping off the cushion, “no, I would be honored to stay with you another night.”   
  
“Perfect!” The Druid smiled and stood, suddenly moving very quickly, “I’ll have a tent made up for you, and make sure your horse is set for the night as well. And we’ll have to find you other clothes for the next day, because I expect you’d want to change… And tomorrow I could show you the area, everything around camp. Oh! Unless you wanted to spend time with Morgana, the two of you have loads of catching up to do! Regardless, that’s all up to you! I’ll make sure you’re comfortable and you’ll want for nothing!” He has been waving his hands, as if dismissing thoughts in his little tangent and turned back to Arthur with a self-satisfied grin.    
  
Arthur stood, “right! Well, thank you for your hospitality, it’s much more than I deserve.” The king nodded in a goodbye and goodnight, retying his cape and pulling open the tent flap.    
  
“Nonsense!” Merlin dismissed, waving a hand before stopping, “and Arthur, the crown is still crooked.”   
-   
When Arthur woke the next morning he had this strange feeling of being better rested than he had been in a very long time. And that thought was quickly disregarded when Merlin came pushing into the tent and Arthur was made very aware of his state of dress.    
  
“Rise and shine!” the Druid cheered, bringing in a tray of breakfast as the king pulled his blanket up to properly hide all below his waist. Merlin looked at him and held forward the meal, but blinked in a way it was clear he was noticing the inappropriateness of his intrusion. He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from the expanse of fit muscle and smooth skin that he had the urge to reach out and touch. “Morgana is thrilled to spend the day with you,” he said, with a faltering smile, “and I hope you don’t mind having Mordred along, the two of them are inseparable.”    
  
Arthur nodded, “of course.” He shared a polite smile and finally glanced about his tent to search for the clothes his hosts had provided. The attire sat in a very conveniently nearby stack, and Arthur plucked the shirt from the top. He slipped it on, feeling a little more dignified. The tunic was similar to the one Merlin had worn the night before, very well stitched and much softer than expected, dyed a soft grey. “Thank you, for all of this,” he said as he looked to see Merlin on his way out.    
  
Arthur was left to dress and eat in peace, thankfully. The clothes were comfortable and the food thoroughly satisfying. It was after some time he noted the absence of something: a hangover. Maybe the Druid alcohol was different, or maybe he drank less than he thought he had. He would have to remember to ask someone about it, though he figured he would somehow be teased by Merlin or Morgana if he asked them. He left the tent and found the camp just as lively now as it had been the night before. Men and women moved about in pleasant domesticity, fetching water and eggs, making breakfast and tools, and watching children play games. A few smiled at Arthur as he wandered about, unsure of where exactly he was going but not truly upset with his lack of direction. The smiles of these people seemed much more genuine than those of some of Camelot’s own citizens, though it wasn’t that he doubted their sincerity. As a king, such affections were often overplayed, it was refreshing to feel truly equal.    
  
“Arthur!” Mordred’s excited voice came from a group of other young adults, and it made Arthur wonder just how many Druids there were. The boy smiled and leapt from his seat, running over to the king, “I heard Morgana and I are spending the day with you!”   
  
“Yes,” the elder smiled, “do you know where she is? I haven’t seen her yet this morning.”   
  
“Emrys said he wanted to talk to her before we had the day together. They’re probably at his tent, come on!” Mordred led them off with astounding excitement. Arthur wondered over his age, he appeared to have come of age, easily in his late teens. Though, without war or the struggles anyone in society would have, it made sense the boy seemed so distanced from the hardships of life. Arthur hoped he held onto that joy.    
  
The Druid boy has been right and they arrived in time to see Morgana and Merlin stepping back out into camp. Both smiled at seeing Arthur get dragged along by Mordred, as if he wasn’t an adult or a noble, much less a king.    
  
“No crown today?” Merlin grinned.    
  
“No, it seemed a bit excessive,” Arthur shook his head, wondering what on earth the other man’s fixation on that was. Turning to Morgana he smiled, “so it seems you’re in charge of me today.”   
  
She groaned, “I can’t believe after all this time I’m still babysitting you-“   
  
“You never-!”   
  
“I mean grow up, Arthur!” Morgana laughed and punched his arm jokingly. He was so glad to have her back he didn’t quite have words for it, and to see her as happy as she had not been even years before she left. It was easy now to see the influence Uther had over those closest to him.    
  
“I really think that it was the other way around back then, but I’ll let you entertain yourself.” Arthur huffed.   
  
“How self-righteous of you!” Morgana laughed. “As if I ever really needed you to protect me.”   
  
“No, you didn’t,” Arthur admitted solemnly.    
  
“That doesn’t matter now, we’re going to spend the whole day together and get a fresh start… start new, it’s been so long,” Morgana smiled softly, “And I can get you acquainted with Mordred!”    
  
Both Merlin and the Druid boy perked up at that. “I’m excited for you all, though I’m afraid I won’t see you again until the evening,” Merlin nodded at the three in dismissal, then turned and wandered out of camp.    
  
“Is he always like that?” Arthur asked once the man was out of their sight.    
  
“Like what?”   
  
“Mysterious, vague, overly excitable, with strange, surreal moments of wisdom.”    
  
“Yeah, that’s Emrys!” Morgana cheered and then pulled Arthur back into camp. “There’s so many things for you to see! All types of magic you can bring back to Camelot!” She had a wicked grin on her face and Arthur knew this would be no short adventure. Even if Merlin arrived back at camp late, it seemed Morgana was so set on exhausting him that he wasn’t going to see anyone else regardless.    
-   
The sun was bright in the sky, and it was somewhere past midday when Arthur was finally able to sit down. Even then, Morgana peppered him with so many questions he could hardly eat. As soon as he took a bite or a sip, he was expected to be answering something, until he finally waved a hand to cut her off, struggling to swallow.    
  
“Morgana!” He gasped. He took a breath before answering her imploring list, “yes Uther was heartbroken after you left, we all were. Gwen is doing wonderfully, she’s courted by a knight, Lancelot. And the knights code has been practically abolished, anyone can be a knight if they have the skill. There’s peace in my kingdom, the people are happy, and there was little resistance to magic’s reinstatement. Gaius was happy to practice again, though, he’s a bit rusty and blew up his work table once. Don’t laugh! He felt horrible!” Arthur couldn’t hide his own smile though as he swatted at Morgana’s arm. Truly, he was glad to tell her how well the kingdom was doing and some part of him longed to bring her back. “We have no court sorcerer or whatever, considering there’s no High Priestesses left or any other sort the council would easily approve of. I’ve been trying, but currently most that are open with their powers are those with limited skill. Maybe it’s asking too much, to want some grand magician at my side, but it’s what’s best for Camelot.”    
  
He sighed and Morgana reassuringly clasped his hand, “Arthur, you’re doing brilliantly. News does travel, even to us, and I won’t deny how little Uther’s death affected me, but your position on the throne is the best thing that’s ever happened to Camelot. I always knew you would make a good king-“   
  
“Then why did you always say I was the worst prince who ever lived?” Arthur laughed, feigning offense.    
  
“That was my job, as your sister!”    
  
With her questions answered, they finished their meal in contentment, while Mordred rambled on about all the things he wanted to do with bis magic. He kept referencing Emrys, which meant Arthur found it impossible to tune him out. He went on about how powerful the Druid leader was and how he wanted to be just like that. Morgana argued that was impossible, because no one was as powerful as Emrys, and Arthur thought back to when the man had called himself “the greatest sorcerer to have ever lived” the night before. He found himself filled with curiosity. “Why do you call him that? Emrys? Instead of his name?”   
  
“Merlin?” Morgana said the name very softly, whispering it with sharp surprise and paused, “Emrys is sort of an honorific, and it’s hard to convey, since you don’t have magic, everything that the name ‘Emrys’ means. Yes, he is Merlin, but he is also Emrys, which refers to his power, and his destiny.”   
  
“He asked me to call him Merlin, has he not done the same with you?”   
  
Morgana looked shocked, and with a growing smile said, “what he asked of you is no small honor. He may wish the same of us, but he’s never made the request. It shows great humility and respect for him to go by that name with you.”   
  
“How so?”   
  
“Again, Emrys refers to his power and his destiny. These are not things he can escape, they are not things any of us can escape.” Mordred was speaking now, perhaps a better authority than Morgana at the culture involved. “By asking you to call him that name, he is saying the two of you are equals, and implying you have the ability to control your lives. Magic is undoubtedly prevalent here, among the Druids, but the power of prophecy and destiny is a force that is as old as the earth and cannot be controlled. For this reason, we rarely interfere with things, for we know the future is unavoidable. What Emrys says, by distancing you, and himself, from that title is that what he wants from you is something natural, unchained from fate.”   
  
Arthur sat there, absorbing everything that was just said and wondering how a name could be that significant. By establishing himself as Merlin, the Druid had said they were equal, and set a level of intimacy to all their actions. “But he said we were destined to be united, so why bother pretending we have any control over our fates?”   
  
Morgana had a smile on her face that looked to hide a million secrets, “It’s a tad overwhelming to know the future you hold, and it is a burden Emrys carries well. He has always known he was destined to guide you, but a more… personal relationship between the two of you is not mentioned in prophecy. You two are united, but the tone of such a union is actually your choice.”   
  
“What? A personal relationship, Morgana-“   
  
“Companionship, Arthur.” She cut him off and he stared at her, eyes wide, taken aback. “Emrys wants to know you, truly and genuinely, without titles and without destiny. Perhaps that is what led you to meet in Camelot many years ago, the personal part of your fate.” Morgana sat back looking rather feline with her look of self-satisfaction. Arthur had this burning curiosity and the same nagging feeling from the night before, the one he couldn’t place. The thought Merlin wanted to truly know him was humbling, and deeply flattering, if not also overwhelming. To think the man had so completely changed the dynamic of their conversation in just an introduction, without Arthur knowing at all!   
  
Arthur nodded slowly, mentally organizing everything that had just been revealed to him, “Does he usually spend the whole day away from camp?”   
  
“Not all the time,” Morgana replied, “but it’s not uncommon. He says it’s something to do with destiny, figuring things out. He’s secretive in that regard, but I guess it’s none of our business anyway.” Arthur nodded more surely. Merlin was this huge mystery that Morgana, Mordred, and the druids just accepted, but the king found himself longing to unravel. “Come on!” his thoughts disappeared as Morgana pulled him up from his seat, “we still have so much more to see!”   
-   
Evening was rapidly approaching as a certain energy filled the camp again, making Arthur feel wholly alive. It was like he could feel every sensation across his skin, feel every blade of grass beneath his feet -which were now bare. His shoes had been discarded some time back after he blamed them for losing a race against Mordred. After Morgana made him remove the boots, he still lost, if that’s important. He easily could have pinpointed the feeling of the changing time, on the wind that was picking up and creating music in the treetops, but it was much more likely that it was the sight of Emrys walking back into camp.   
  
“Arthur!” Merlin called, jogging up to the trio, “I wondered if you might join me, we can dine and continue negotiations from last night.”   
  
Arthur had completely forgotten that’s why he showed up in the first place, and was stuck in shock for a second before nodding, “right! Yes, of course, I’d be honored.”   
  
“Wonderful!” Merlin gave him a dazzling smile and rushed off into the chaos of people. The blond turned back to see Morgana mouth “negotiations” with a shit-eating grin and inappropriately quirked brow. Arthur swatted her arm and muttered a “shut up” that only triggered a fit of giggles.    
  
“I’ll see you both later then,” Arthur said when Morgana had finally attempted to restrain herself, though Mordred had the same goofy grin on his face. “Thank you, for spending the day with me, I’m glad you’re both happy.” He smiled genuinely and the other two both nodded sincerely. With that he turned and followed after in the direction the Druid had hurried off.    
  
It took longer than Arthur thought it should have to find the tent; however, Arthur could hardly remember where to go, and he too was distracted. He finally saw the royal blue tent peak though and hurried towards it. As soon as he poked his head in he called out “Emrys?”   
  
“It’s Merlin!” The other man grinned, appearing from behind a divider and rushing to set up the same small table as yesterday. “Merlin, please.” Arthur felt his face heat, thinking to what Morgana had said about the name. Regardless, he swallowed and entered into the tent. It was nice, with the glow of the candlelight and the way the canvas walls cut out the wind and growing chill of the night. “Come on!” Merlin pleaded, motioning for Arthur to walk further in and join him at the table. It was all almost exactly like the night before.    
  
Merlin was pouring two glasses of a richly colored wine when they both sat down. Arthur took a sip as the Druid cleared his throat, “now, I’m not exactly certain what you were sent to do or what your council wants out of me, but understand I won’t allow you to take advantage of magic-“   
  
“I would never dream-“   
  
Merlin raised a hand, “I know that. I have no reason to believe that you, Arthur, would ever exploit my people. However, there is no guarantee members of your court now or in the future would be so noble. I would like to imagine that reality, but it’s not an ignorance I can allow myself.” Merlin paused for approval and Arthur nodded in understanding. “Thank you. I will not sign anything or even remotely agree to anything that pledges the allegiance of the Druids to you or to Camelot. There’s too much risk in such a statement. We have no loyalties, personal preferences and associations yes, but not political ties. What I will support is a statement from you and Camelot that clearly claims the Druids have equal status as citizens of Camelot and will be cared for by your court, if the need arise. The makes up for Uther’s damage and negligence, but I would like with that statement it be clear that your people must also treat mine as equal. In markets, wherever, they are to be treated fairly.”   
  
“I understand all this, and agree, but the people pay taxes for their patrols and protection. I hate to ask it of them, but it's essential to funding our city. What you ask for means such a limitation would have to be placed onto you as well.” Arthur felt disgusting at the thought of taxing anyone, but taxing the Druids would be asking for something they could not give. And that’s politics.    
  
“Yes,” Merlin bit his lip in thought. It was an issue he had already realized. He paused and took a sip of wine, “the taxes pay for usual patrols, for maintenance of land and food stores… We wouldn’t need any of that. Our protection wouldn’t need to include any sort of military, we’ve always lasted fine without it. What Camelot could promise is compensation and protection if there is a clear threat or incident. I believe that would be fair… As for payment for even that… We will offer what we can in services. There’s many medical and magical secrets we can offer to your people, which may help them expand their knowledge and comfort of sorcery, which is inarguably beneficial.”   
  
Arthur was surprised at the Druid’s skill as a diplomat. Everything he said made perfect sense and he could already hear the council agreeing to the terms. Some might dislike the idea of no monetary gain, but they were greedy pigs and Arthur would tell them where to stick their opinions. “Perfect,” he breathed, “that all sounds wonderful. Thank you. This will do so much for my people, and for all of Camelot.” He held his glass up, “to Druids.”   
  
Merlin smiled and responded “to Camelot,” before clinking glasses. They both downed their drinks and the seriousness of the evening subsided into elation. Everything would work out better than either of them could have expected, because though the probability of failure had been small, Arthur never could remove the fear that he would somehow ruin all relations with magic, with Emrys.    
  
However, without any outlined subject for them to discuss, there was a pause of too-long silence, in which they both picked at their meals. “Ah, so,” Arthur cleared his throat when a curiosity popped into his mind, “what did you leave camp for? Morgana said you go off to learn about destiny, I can only imagine that’s no small burden.”   
  
Merlin waved a hand dismissively, “it’s nothing like that. More often than not, I find out little more about events and things I than already know. I do not doubt her ability to make it seem as though I just go around learning new prophecies all the time.” He smiled a bit, letting out a small laugh and Arthur had to guess -though his completely lacking knowledge of magic meant it was only a guess- that prophecies were not that easy to come by. “It’s not tolling, the walk is more taxing than the meditation.”   
  
“Why walk so far then?” Arthur inquired. He wasn’t one for meditation, but if he were he couldn’t justify going on some adventure for it. Why go on a hike to do what he could do without even getting up?   
  
“It’s not precisely meditation, the location is important and also not always up to me. There’s a feeling behind it, I think it’s my magic leading me where I should go.” He gave Arthur a sly grin, “besides, many times I’ve been walking and stumble upon much more interesting things than I had expected. I would hate to think of missing such opportunities.”   
  
The look he was giving made Arthur a little scared to ask, but he did anyway, “What kind of things?”   
  
Melin winked, actually winked at Arthur, “you have no idea what some people get up to in this forest.”   
  
“Oh! Oh gross, Merlin!” Arthur’s face was one horrible mix of shock and disgust, “we’re eating!” Merlin was practically falling over laughing so hard, his head thrown back and tears pricking his eyes. “Why would you want to see that?! You pervert!” The Druid only laughed harder and Arthur started throwing grapes at him.    
  
“It’s not like that,” Merlin finally breathed, clutching his side and deflecting a grape, “it’s mostly just really funny, stumbling upon horny teenagers in the woods. Everyone’s always so flustered! Oh! and it’s even funnier when it’s nobles, who I’ve learned are shamelessly loud.” And Arthur began pelting him with anything he could grab to make him shut up. Merlin just started laughing again, hiding behind a cushion as if he didn’t have magic that could easily stop the projectiles. The table was cleared and the floor littered with objects when Merlin held his hands up, crying, “I surrender!”   
  
“I’m out of stuff anyway,” Arthur pouted, motioning to the empty surface and drawing even more laughter from the Druid. He couldn’t help a small smile at seeing the way the other man’s eyes would crinkle and brighten, the way his cheeks flushed and how he held himself so lightly, as if his laughter would make him float away. “Are you just incredibly drunk? Because it is not that funny!”   
  
Merlin shook his head and floundered hand motions before regaining enough breath to say “you- your face! It’s hilarious!”   
  
“It’s not polite to insult a king’s face Merlin, I would think even you would know that.” Arthur smirked while Merlin swatted his arm.    
  
“My god Arthur, don’t take it personally! You pouted! You genuinely pouted,” Merlin started laughing harder as if he had told the funniest joke ever. Really it was funnier to him because the rather inappropriate attention he had paid to Arthur’s expressiveness, and definitely to his lips, which were just generally more pouty than most. He tore his eyes away from the fine (very fine, he might add) features of Arthur’s face and eventually calmed his breathing, with a bit of a stitch in his side now.    
  
“Yes, and you winked at me earlier, so I hardly think you’re one to judge!” Arthur had begun laughing lightly and noticed a look that edged on embarrassment flash across Merlin’s visage. Merlin picked up one of the thrown cups, pointing out that now he had the advantage, Arthur weaponless. “You wouldn’t,” the king breathed, with a barely suppressed grin and finger pointed accusingly at the other.   
  
Merlin’s look became mischievous as he pulled his arm back like he would throw it. “Don’t push me, Pendragon,” he threatened loosely. A phrase popped into his head, one that had rolled around in there for years and each word of it, the way it had originally been said, was imprinted in him like a brand. Merlin grinned, “I could take you apart with one blow.”   
  
And just the same Arthur smiled, finding something so perfect in the completion of the memory “I could take you apart with less than that.” Oh god how true that was.    
  
Merlin found himself dropping the cup back to the ground with the rest of their discarded meal as Arthur was on him in a second. Before lips even touched there was calloused fingers tangled in dark hair and hot breath fanning across skin.    
  
“Can I kiss you?” Arthur asked, voice soft and needy but so suddenly polite and Merlin pulled him close, breathing “please,” into the small space between them.    
  
Their lips met and Arthur could already feel himself giving everything to the man in his arms. That same overwhelming feeling he had when he arrived in the Druid camp filled him, that sense of magic and life pulsed through him. He realized that it was Merlin, what had always struck him as surreal and almost inhumane. It was Merlin, it was magic, and now it was his.    
  
The kiss wasn’t necessarily gentle, but it was desperate and searching. Arthur’s fingers held them together, where his hand cupped around the other’s head. There was bliss in their heavy breathing as they finally pulled apart, and something so purely beautiful in the soft noise that escaped Merlin’s lips as Arthur planted smaller kisses across his skin. The  Druid found himself tilting his head back, exposing the soft skin of his neck, though he hardly felt conscious of the action.    
  
Arthur’s teeth nipped and a string of pleasured sounds escaped them both, hands roamed and clothes were pushed and pulled at. “You have no idea,” Merlin breathed, “how badly I wanted this… from the moment I first saw you.”   
  
The king hummed, whether in pleasure or curiosity even he wasn’t quite sure, but he pulled his head back to look at the other, “when you saw me in Camelot, or yesterday?”   
  
“Both times,” Merlin answered with a certain desperation clear in his voice and he shifted closer to Arthur, “back then… and now, I see you and-“ he cut himself off with a moan when suddenly there were lips trailing along his collarbone.    
  
“And you said nobles were vocal,” Arthur teased and traced his way back up to Merlin’s lips.    
  
“I can still prove they are,” the Druid grinned and Arthur cheekily pulled him onto his lap, making the state of both of them very clear. Merlin would have laughed if it weren’t for the pressure of both their still-covered cocks rubbing together causing him to let out a low moan that the other only echoed. Arthur pulled their hips closer and let out another pleasured sigh, and Merlin took advantage of the movement to move his hands up to tug at the already loosening ties of the king’s shirt. Their excess of clothing was becoming increasingly apparent, as Merlin struggled off their tunics and Arthur practically ripped open the front of their trousers. “Hey!” Merlin looked offended at his now ruined clothing and Arthur just tossed the fabric to the side.    
  
“I don’t plan on you needing any clothes for a while,” he muttered and ran a thumb along Merlin’s hipbone, thrusting up to rub against now exposed skin, casting any negative thoughts from either of their minds with a surge of pleasure. In one swift motion he flipped Merlin over, so his back was on the ground. Arthur’s pushes their mouths back together and with a hungry passion forced his tongue in, opening and deepening the kiss. However, Merlin quickly found the connection limited him from pulling off the last of their clothes. He pushed Arthur back, stripping the king of his shirt just before thoroughly abused lips began to mark their way down to Merlin’s nipples. Long fingers curled into blond hair, and Merlin arched his back up, pressing himself more into Arthur’s grip and into his mouth.    
  
Cocks aching in neglect and need, both men shifted for contact, and Arthur sighed at the friction of both their erections running together. He put a hand down to grip their lengths together and ran an agonizingly slow stroke over them. “Oh god,” Merlin breathed, “oh god Arthur, fuck-“   
  
“You only have to ask,” he was taking far too much joy in Merlin’s already far gone state, the way he eagerly pushed against Arthur and moaned out. His mind flashed back to when they had first met, he he faced the reminder that this desire was not bew. There had been something about Merlin even then, that feeling he couldn’t place, that kept the man in his mind and in his fantasies. It was almost unbelievable that any of this was happening, but he let out a very real moan and could feel every place where their hot skin touched.    
  
Merlin’s hand curled in the hair at the nape of Arthur’s neck and he pulled their lips back together. Arthur slid back up his body, only increasing their friction, “oh Arthur please. Fuck me.”    
  
It was a request no part of him could deny.    
  
Arthur smiled into a final quick kiss as he pulled back, hair a mess and face flushed, to see Merlin looking similarly ravished. “Do you have any oil?” he asked, sliding a hand down between Merlin’s thighs as if his meaning wasn’t already clear.    
  
“Better,” Merlin muttered, and Arthur watched his eyes glow. He felt a sudden slickness on his hands and without meaning to his thumb already slipped partway into Merlin’s entrance. Seeing the other use magic, and so intimately, made his stomach heat with arousal and he pressed the finger in more firmly; Merlin pressed eagerly against him.    
  
With this unnatural but substantial lubricant, Arthur added a second finger, pushing deeper and Merlin was already a moaning mess. “Tell me if it hurts, if you want me to stop…” Arthur breathed as he opened Merlin up. The last thing he wanted was to stop, but he would never impose.   
  
Merlin shook his head slightly, and he lifted a leg to hook around Arthur’s waist, moaning a soft “more.” His display was such a welcome invitation that Arthur groaned and pushed deeper. He became so focused on working Merlin opening, fueled by the unending moans and cries of pleasure that he almost missed the clear demands to “fuck me already Arthur!”   
  
And he had no issue complying as his hand was suddenly slick again and he caught the end of Merlin’s eyes flashing gold. Arthur ran the lubrication over his cock before lining himself up and slowly slipping into the Druid’s well-prepared entrance. They let out twin moans, Arthur leveling himself with a grip on Merlin’s hips and Merlin with one hand in his own hair and one on his cock. Slowly, Arthur began to move and Merlin pressed back into his touch, both of them rocking against the other.    
  
The formed a rhythm that Arthur knew wouldn’t hold long, but broke when Merlin cried out especially loud, unable to form words, and Arthur knew damn well what it meant. He thrust back in, hitting the spot again, and again, pulling Merlin’s hips into the motion. The hand jerking Merlin off became sloppy, but desperate as he felt a build up of heat pooling in his stomach, and knew he was close to the edge. Arthur was the same way, and as much as he made sure he hit Merlin perfectly, he thrust in desperately, frantically. “Ah- Merlin,” he moaned softly, breathing heavily and leaning to lock their lips together passionately. The movement pushed him in deeper and Merlin came in a breathy gasp into Arthur’s mouth. The sensation made Arthur speed up until he was chasing Merlin’s orgasm with his own.    
  
Riding out the pleasure, he barely kept himself from collapsing atop the other man as he finally relaxed. He planted a sympathetic kiss to Merlin’s cheek as he pulled out and fell at his side. They breathed heavily, the stench of sex suddenly strong and the sweat coating them both very apparent.    
  
“I hope you don’t end all negotiations like that,” Merlin broke the silence with a laugh, turning over to look at Arthur. He pushed the damp fringe out of his face and the king couldn’t help but laugh with him.    
  
“What can I say, politics just really gets me going.” Arthur mimed wanking as punctuation.    
  
“Oh gross!” Merlin cringed, playfully smacking Arthur’s chest.    
  
And everything felt so right about the moment. To Merlin, there was absolutely denying that even if this relationship wasn’t necessarily written in their destiny, it was meant to be. And at the same time Arthur wished he had legalized magic a long time ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I wrote this pretty quickly so I’m sorry for any and all errors, my review process is also garbage. And by garbage I mean nonexistent.  
> Also! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!!


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